The Great Book of Amber

by Roger Zelazny

  “You know anything more about this situation that I should be aware of?”

  I shook my head. “This is very new, and she gave you the whole story I know. Would you, perchance, know something about it that we don't?”

  “Nope,” he said. “It came as a surprise to me, too. But I've got to pursue it.”

  “I guess so.”

  We were nearing my stretch of corridor now, and I felt obliged to prepare him.

  “We'll be to my rooms in a minute,” I said, “and I just wanted you to know your mother's in there. She's safe, but you won't find her too talkative.”

  “I'm familiar with the results of that spell,” he said. “I also recall that you said you know how to lift it. So.. That leads into the next topic. I've been thinking. This interlude is slowing us down a bit in our plan for going after Mask and your brother.”

  “Not all that much,” I responded.

  “We don't really know how long this is going to take me, though,” he went on. “Supposing it drags out a bit? Or supposing something happens to really slow me down?”

  I gave him a quick glance.

  “Like, what have you got in mind?” I asked.

  “I don't know. I'm just supposing. Okay? I like to plan ahead. Say we get delayed on this attack...”

  “All right. Say that,” I said, as we neared my door.

  “What I'm getting at,” he continued, “is, what if we get there too late? Supposing we arrive and your brother has already undergone the ritual that turns him into hell on wheels?”

  I unlocked my door, opened it, and held it for him. I did not like entertaining the possibility he had just described, because I recalled my father's stories of the times he'd encountered Brand and faced that uncanny power.

  Luke stepped inside. I snapped my fingers and a number of oil lamps came to life, their flames dancing for a moment before settling to a glowing steadiness.

  Jasra was there in plain sight before him, holding a number of my garments on outstretched arms. I was concerned for a moment as to what his reaction might be.

  He halted, studying her, then advanced, his speculations concerning Jurt forgotten. He regarded her for perhaps ten seconds, and I found myself growing uncomfortable. Then he chuckled.

  “She always lide being decorative,” he said, “but to combine it with being useful was generally beyond her. You've got to hand it to Mask, even though she probably won't catch the moral of it.”

  He turned away and faced me.

  “No, she'll probably wake up mean as cat piss and looking for trouble, “ he reflected. Then, “She doesn't seem to be holding that cloak you mentioned.”

  “I'll get it.”

  I moved to an armoire, opened it, and fetched out a dark fur one. As we traded, he ran his hand over it.

  “Manticore?” he asked.

  “Dire wolf,” I said.

  I hung his within and closed the dorr while he donned mine.

  “As I was saying when we came in here,” he offered, “supposing I don't come back?”

  “You weren't saying that,” I corrected.

  “Not in so manu words, “ he admitted. “But whether it's a small delay or the big one, what difference does it make? The point is, what if Jurt goes through with the ritual and succeeds in obtaining the powers he's after before we can do anything about it? And supposing I'm not around right then to give you a hand?”

  “That's a lot of supposing.” I said.

  “That's what separates us from the losers, man. Nice cloak.”

  He moved toward the door, glanced back at me, at Jasra.

  “Okay,” I said. “You go down there, Dalt cuts off your head and uses it for a football, then Jurt shows up ten feet tall and farting fire. I'm supposing. How does that separate us from the losers?”

  He stepped out into the hall. I followed him, snapping my fingers again, leaving Jasra to the darkness.

  “It's a matter of knowing your options,” he told me, as I secured the door.

  I fell into step beside him as he headed back down the hall.

  “A person who acquires that kind of power also picks up a vulnerability, by way of its source,” he said.

  “What dows that mean?” I asked.

  “Specifically, I don't know,” he told me. “But the power in the Keep can be used against a person who is empowered by the Keep. I learned that much in Sharu's notes. But Mom took them away before I read them all, and I never saw them again. Never trust – that's her motto. I think.”

  “You're saying..?”

  “I'm saying that if something happens to me and he comes up a winner in this game, I believe she knows some special way of destroying him.”

  “Oh.”

  “I'm also pretty sure that she'll have to be asked very nicely.”

  “Somehow, I think I already knew that.”

  He gave a humorless chuckle.

  “So you tell her that I've ended the vendetta, that I'm satisfied, and then offer her the citadel in return for her help.”

  “What if she says that's not enough?”

  “Hell! Turn her back into a coatrack then! It's not as if the guy can't be killed. My dad still died with an arrow through his throat, despite his fancy powers. A deathstroke is still a deathstroke. It's just that delivering it to a guy like that is a lot harder.”

  “You really think that'll be enough?” I said.

  He halted and looked at me, frowning.

  “She'll argue, but of course she'll agree,” he said. “It'll be a step up in the world. And she'll want revenge on Mask as much as that piece of her former holdings. But to answer your question, don't trust her. No matter what she promises, she'll never be happy with less than she had before. She'll be scheming. She'll be a good ally till the job's done. Then you've got to think about protecting yourself against her. Unless...”

  “Unless what?”

  “Unless I come up with something to sweeten the pot.”

  “Like what?”

  “I don't know yet. But don't lift that spell until things are definitely settled between Dalt and me. Okay?”

  He resumed walking.

  “Wait a minute,” I said “What are you planning?”

  “Nothing special,” he answered. “Like I told the queen, I'm just goint go play things by ear.”

  “I sometimes get the feeling you're as devious as you make her out to be,” I said.

  “I hope so,” he replied. “But there's a difference. I'm honest.”

  “I don't know that I'd buy a used car from you, Luke.”

  “Every deal I make is special,” he said, “and for you it's always top of the line.”

  I glanced at him, saw that he kept his expressioin under control.

  “What else can I say?” he added, indicating the sitting room with a quick gesture.

  “Nothing, now,” I answered, and we entered there.

  Vialle turned her head in our direction as we came in, hr expression as unreadable as Luke's.

  “I take it you are properly attired now?” she asked.

  “I am indeed,” he answered.

  “Then let's be about this,” she said, raising her left hand, which I saw to contain a Trump. “Come over here, please.”

  Luke approached her and I followed him. I could see then that it was Julian's Trump that she held.

  “Place your hand upon mu shoulder,” she told him.

  “All right.”

  He did, and she reached, found Julian and began speaking to him. Shortly, Luke was party to the conversation, explaining what he intended to do. I overheard Vialle saying that the plan had her approval.

  Moments later I saw Luke raise his free hand and extend it. I also saw the shadowy figure of Julian reaching forward, though I was not part of the Trump nexus. This was because I had summoned my Logrus Sight and had become sensitive to such things. I needed it for the timing, not wanting Luke whisked away before I could move.

  I let my hand fall upon his shoulder and I m
oved forward as he did.

  “Merlin! What are you doing?” I heard Vialle call.

  “I'd like to see what happens,” I said. “I'll come right home when things are concluded,” and the rainbow gate closed behind me.

  We stood within the flickering of oil lamps inside a large tent. From outside, I couild hear the wind and the sounds of stirring branches. Julian stood facing us. He let Luke's hand fall and regarded him without expression.

  “So you are Caine's killer,” he said.

  “I am,” Luke replied.

  And I was remembering that Caine and Julian had always been particularly close. If Julian were to kill Luke and cry vendetta, I was certain that Random would merely nod and agree. Perhaps he'd even smile. Hard to say. If I were Random, I would greet Luke's removal with a sight of relief. In fact, that was one of the reasons I'd come along. Supposing this whole deal were a setup? I couild'n picture Vialle as a part of it, but she could easily have been deceived by Julian and Benedict. Supposing Dalt wasn't even out there?

  Or suppose he were – and that what he'd really asked for was Luke's head? After all, he had tried to kill Luke fairly recently. I had to admit the possibility now, and I also had to admit that Julian was the most likely candidate to be a willing party to such a design. For the good of Amber.

  Julian's gaze met mine, and I wore as affectless a mask as his own.

  “Good evening, Merlin,” he said. “Do you have a special part in this plan?”

  “I'm an observer,” I answered. “Anything else I may do will be dictated by circumstance.”

  From somewhere outside I heard the growling of a hellhound.

  “So long as you keep out of the,way,” Julian said.

  I smiled.

  “Sorcerers have special ways of avoiding notice, “ I replied.

  He studied me again, wondering, I am certain, whether that involved some sort of threat-to defend Luke or avenge him.

  Then he shrugged and turned away to where a small table held an unrolled map, weighted in place with a rock and a dagger. He indicated that Luke should join him there, and I followed when he did.

  It was a map of the western fringe of Arden, and he' pointed out our position on it. Garnath lay to our sout-southwest, Amber to the southeast.

  “Our troops are situated here;” he said, with a movement of his finger. “And Dalt's are here.” He described another line, roughly paralleling our own.

  “What about Benedict's force?” I inquired.

  He glanced at me, showing the slightest of frowns.

  “It is good for Luke to know that there is such a force,” he stated, “but not its size, location, or objective. That way, if Dalt were to capture and question him, i” he'd have a lot to worry about and nothing to act upon.”

  Luke nodded. “Good idea,” he said.

  Julian pointed again, to a spot midway between the lines. “This is the place where I met with him when we spoke earlier,” he explained. “It is a clear, level area, in view of both sides during daylight. I'd suggest we use it again, for your meeting.”

  “All right,” Luke said, and I noticed that as he spoke, Julian's fingertips caressed the handle of the dagger that lay before him. Then I saw that Luke's right hand, in casual movement, had come to rest upon his belt, slightly to the left and near to his own dagger.

  Simultaneously, then, Luke and Julian smiled at each other, and held it several seconds too long. Luke was bigger than Julian, and I knew he was fast and strong. But Julian had centuries of experience with weapons behind him. I wondered how I would intervene if either made a move toward the other, because I knew that I would try to stop them. But they let their hands fall to their sides then, as if by sudden agreement, and Julian said, “Let me offer you a glass of wine.”

  “Don't mind if I do,” Luke replied, and I wondered whether my presence had kept them from fighting. Probably not. I'd the feeling that Julian had just wanted to make his feelings clear, and Luke had wanted to let him know he didn't give a damn. I really don't know which one I'd have bet on.

  Julian placed three cups upon the table, filled them with Bayle's Best, gestured for us to help ourselves as he corked the bottle, then picked up the remaining cup and took a swallow before either of us could do more than sniff ours. A quick assurance that we weren't being poisoned and that he wanted to talk business.

  “When I met with him we each brought two retainers along,” he said.

  “Armed?” I asked.

  He nodded.

  “More for show, really.”

  “Were you mounted or on foot?” Luke asked.

  “On foot,” he replied. “We each left our lines at the same time and proceeded at the same pace till we met there in the middle, several hundred paces from either side.”

  “I see,” Luke said. “No hitches?”

  “None. We talked and returned.”

  “When was this?”

  “Around sundown.”

  “Did he seem to be a man in a normal state of mind?”

  “I'd say. I count a certain arrogant posturing and a few insults toward Amber as normal for Dalt.”

  “Understandable,” Luke said. “And he wanted me or my mother, or both? And failing to get us, he threatened to attack?”

  “Yes.”

  “Did he give any indication as to why he wants us?”

  “None,” Julian replied.

  Luke took a sip of his wine.

  “Did he specify whether he wanted us dead or alive?” he asked.

  “Yes. He wants you alive,” Julian answered.

  “What are your impressions?”

  “If I give you to him, I'm rid of you,” Julian said. “If I spit in his eye and take him on in battle, I'm rid

  of him. Either way, I come out ahead.”

  Then his gaze moved to the wine cup, which Luke had picked up with his left hand, and for an instant his eyes widened. I realized he had just then noticed that Luke was wearing Vialle's ring.

  “It looks as if I get to kill Dalt, anyway,” he concluded.

  “By impressions,” Luke went on, unperturbed. “I meant, do you believe he will really attack? Do you have any idea where he came from? Any indication where he might be headed when he leaves here-if he leaves?”

  Julian swirled his wine in his cup.

  “I have to go under the assumption that he means what he says and plans to attack. When we first became aware of his troop movements, he was advancing from the general direction of Begma and Kashfa-probably Eregnor, since he hangs out there a lot. Your guess is as good as anyone's as to where he wants to go if he leaves here.”

  Luke took a quick swallow of wine a fraction of a second too late for it to conceal what appeared to be a sudden smile. No, I realized right then, Luke's guess was not as good as anyone else's. It was probably a hell of a lot better. I took a quick drink myself, though I'm not sure what expression I might have been concealing.

  “You can sleep here,” Julian said. “If you're hungry, I'll have some food brought in. We'll set up this meeting for you at daybreak.”

  Luke shook his head.

  “Now,” Luke said, with another subtle but obvious display of the ring. “We want it set up right away.”

  Julian studied him for several pulsebeats. Then, “You'll not be in the clearest sight of either side in the dark, especially with snow coming down,” he said. “Some little misunderstanding could result in an attack, from either side.”

  “If both of my companions bore large torches-and if both of his did the same—” he suggested, “we ought to be visible to both sides at a few hundred yards.”

  “Possibly,” Julian said. “All right. I'll have the message sent to his camp, and I'll choose two retainers to accompany you.”

  “I already know who I want to have with me,” Luke said. “Yourself and Merlin here.”

  “You are a curious individual,” Julian observed. “But yes, I agree. I would like to be there when whatever happens, happens.”


  Julian moved to the front of his tent, opened the flap, and summoned an officer with whom he spoke for several minutes. In this space, I asked, “You know what you're doing, Luke?”

  “Certainly,” he replied.

  “I've a feeling this is a little more than playing it by ear,” I said. “Any reason why you can't tell me your plan?”

  He appraised me for a moment, then said, “I only recently realized that I, too, am a son of Amber. We've met, and we've seen that we're too much like each other. Okay. That's good. It means we can do business, right?”

  I allowed myself to frown. I wasn't sure what he was trying to say.

  He clasped my shoulder lightly.

  “Don't worry,” he said. “You can trust me. Not that you have a great deal of choice at this point. But you may a a bit later. I want you to remember then that, whatever happens, you must not interfere.”

  “What do you think is going to happen?”

  “We haven't the time or the privacy to speculate,” he said. “So let it go, and remember everything I said this evening.”

  “As you said, I haven't much choice at this point.”

  “I want you to remember it later,” he said, as Julian lowered the flap and turned toward us.

  “I'll take you up on that meal,” Luke called to him. “How about you, Merle? Hungry?”

  “Lord, no!” I replied. “I just sat through a state dinner.”

  “Oh?” he inquired almost too casually. “What was the; ocasion?”

  I began to laugh. It was too much for one day. I was about to tell him that we hadn't the time or the rivacy. But Julian had just reopened the tent flap and was calling for an orderly, and I wanted to throw a few curve balls through Luke's broken field just to see what they did to his composure.

  “Oh, it was for the Begman prime minister, Orkuz, and some of his staff,” I explained.

  He waited while I pretended to take a long drink of wine. Then I lowered it and said, “That's all.”

  “Come on, Merlin. What's it about? I've been relatively square with you recently.”

  “Oh?” I said.

  For a minute I didn't think he'd see the humor in it; but then he began to laugh, too.

  “Sometimes the mills of the gods grind too damned fast and we get buried in grist,” he observed. “Look, how about giving me this one for free. I don't have anything brief to trade right now. What's he want?”